


All under the boughs unbowed

by risinggreatness



Series: Circle 'round the sun [78]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 13:04:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3327827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risinggreatness/pseuds/risinggreatness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The New Jedi Order spreads abolition throughout the galaxy; nobody is unaffected by its reach (not EU compliant)</p>
            </blockquote>





	All under the boughs unbowed

Despite the scorching suns, Shmi shivers on the auction block. Heavy manacles chain her hands and feet together.

She wants to call out for help; her voice is carried away by the wind and sand. She hasn’t said a word since she was taken captive. But for the stifled sobs on board their ship, the pirates who took her from the safety of her father’s arms would have thought she was mute.

Members of the crowd shout in different languages to the auctioneer, who announces it back to them several times at a quick, practiced pace.

There isn’t a single friendly face in the throng. They are hard and stone-hearted people, without an ounce of empathy. They think only of their profit and themselves.

Shmi is already small, but being raised above them, exposed on the block, makes her feel tiny.

The auctioneer continues his awful chant.

He bellows louder and louder; it brings Shmi close to a new set of tears, but the captain warned her not to cry ( _“No one will buy a sniveling brat.”_ ), so she shivers instead.

A bang echoes across the marketplace.

“Sold! To Gardulla the Hutt! For 600 credits!”

She is ushered off the block and onto a cart where a variety of other slaves wait to be taken to the Hutt’s palace.

\----------

With the barest bones of a New Republic, the Galactic Senate calls for its first election of a Chancellor ( _the title’s epithet stripped away_ ). It is a landslide victory. The inauguration makes it official: Chancellor Mon Mothma of the New Republic.

Leia’s heart fills witnessing the Chancellor – senator, rebel leader, personal friend – take the oath. Her tears are not of joy or relief, they are tears of pride: Bail and Breha Organa’s work complete.

Part of their work.

The Alliance was her whole life, but they were at work long before the Alliance and the Empire. And she will see it done; starting with what she has already begun.

The Chancellor calls a meeting of her advisors, cabinet, and senators from the Core, Mid and Outer Rims after the ceremony.

“This was a large step for the New Republic today, but we cannot allow ourselves become complacent in our success. There is a long road ahead of us to repair the damage done by the Empire and to right what was wrong with the Galactica Senate.

“I implore you to come to me with propositions, anything large or small. We have come far, but we have a long way yet to go.”

They are dismissed shortly after. Leia waits behind.

Mon raises a hand before she can speak, “I know what it is you want from me.”

“Please. I know you understand how important it is. You were the one who reminded me of my father’s fervor for the cause.”

The older woman rests her hand on Leia’s shoulder and sighs already exhausted ( _no rest for the weary_ ). In the oddest of mood shifts, Mon smiles and chuckles to herself, “ _Universal_ emancipation. It is a wonderful notion, don’t you think?”

Leia doesn’t respond; she can’t see where the Chancellor is going with this.

“Your father, a handful of others, and I used to dream of emancipation in the Republic. I pray one day the galaxy will witness such an occasion, but it will not be in my lifetime, possibly not even yours. I will put a motion to the Senate: the abolition of slavery in the New Galactic Republic. How does that sound?”

It’s not enough.

Han and Luke agree: the Republic can do more.

“I’m not taking no for an answer. I need to push harder – find a way to make them move.”

Ahsoka is less optimistic, “There were only a few supporters of abolition in the days of the Old Republic. Even systems whose people were being exploited the most didn’t care. Orn Free Taa was the worst offender, enslaving his own people and parading around like it was the natural order of things. I can’t see it being much different now.”

A similar image is conjured in Leia’s mind: Wilhuff Tarkin mistreating his slaves before the whole Imperial Senate.

“The Republic had jurisdiction over places like Kiros and they did nothing to protect the colonists from the slavers of Zygerria.” Ahsoka reveals another deeply buried story from her past. Long-harbored resentment creeps into her tone. The Republic neglected its people – her people – allowed them to be sold into slavery.

“The Republic was different then, under Palpatine’s influence. They sent you. What more could they have done?”

Ahsoka shakes her head, “It’s not that. Of course, I was angry; the Republic should have taken measures to prevent that sort of thing from happening in the first place. We didn’t know what happened until we got there, but seeing Anakin’s face when we found out –”

She cuts herself short.

“You didn’t know he was a slave,” Luke finishes.

“It was like something snapped in him. It scared me.”

It’s like something’s snapped in Leia now. Slavery isn’t any other crusade; its ills are in the blood – her blood. She reaches out for something to steady herself, but everything seems just beyond her fingertips.

“Luke…” her voice is small and choked.

Han grabs hold of her to keep her from faltering, “What the hell are you talking about? Vader was a slave?”

( _To the Empire, to the Emperor. Anakin Skywalker was a slave to nameless masters. The irony, he would trade one set of chains for another._ )

Luke doesn’t meet Han’s glare; he looks to Leia.

“My aunt and uncle told me. Uncle Owen’s father freed our father and grandmother. Anakin was still a child when it happened, but that can’t have made it any less painful.”

Leia’s heart and stomach settle, she sees straight again; the shockwave gone. “What about her?”

“I don’t know much about her. Shmi Skywalker died long before I – we were born, she’s buried next to her husband. She was a slave most of her life, but she was strong in the Force for all of it – that much I’m sure of.”

It is another part of who they are. They’re family tree fills in a little more.

Han shakes himself from the continuing nightmare that is her ( _and Luke’s_ ) family. The slight movement reminds Leia she and Luke are not alone.

She looks at Ahsoka expectantly for more.

“I didn’t even know that much. Anakin never talked about his past.”

Some things will remain blanks; they’ve come to terms with that.

Leia nods, more determined than before, “I’m doubling efforts.”

“Then we’re with you all the way,” Han squeezes her shoulder. She feels Luke’s support.

Ahsoka’s eyes glint in memory, “Abolition was a dream of Padmé’s too. She would be proud to see you fight for it.”

She’ll finish her parents’ work. She’ll do it for the galaxy, for the people who endure slavery, for the family she never knew.

\----------

The door closes behind him as he shuffles back into bed. Han pulls the covers over his head and buries his face into Leia’s hair.

Muffled, “You were listening at the door weren’t you?”

She gives up trying to hide it from him, “How could you tell?”

“Every part of you is freezing.” He doesn’t mind, it gives him an excuse to pull her closer; Leia nestles into his shape. Han teases, “Were you worried I wouldn’t get Luke to talk?”

It’s a while before she replies, “Who did you say Talon Karrde was again?”

Not the response he was expecting.

Not wanting to encourage her to stay up any later, Han gives her the short answer, “Top dog among smugglers.”

“How could he possibly be useful in conducting an abolition operation?” It’s too dark to see her face, but Han knows Leia’s turning it over in her head. Her question is too involved, too curious. Her mind’s engaged and awake; there will be no getting her to sleep tonight.

Leia sits bolt upright, nearly elbowing him in the face.

“Did you say Lando had some contacts within Karrde’s organization?”

“Yeah, but –”

Leia’s already throwing back the blankets, “I need to talk to Lando. He’s needs to get hold of those contacts. And I need to talk to Luke.”

“Can’t it wait until morning? Luke’s probably gone to bed by now and you won’t be able to reach Lando at this hour. What in the galaxy could you possibly needs Talon Karrde’s help with that badly?”

He tries to picture any smuggler he’s known testing their aptitude in inter-galactic politics. Most of them would be way out of their league, giving their fast-talking tongues a run for their credits ( _he certainly was_ ).

“Hired intel gatherers. The more numbers and facts I can present to the senate, the more likely I’ll be able to convince them to our side.”

Despite his insistence it’s too late to get any work done, Leia leaves in a flurry.

Han falls back on the bed. His arms stretch out across the empty space.

\----------

The rain pounds on the hull of their ship, echoing in its empty spaces. The cold and damp of the storm seeps into their bones.

“We should wait for the rain to let up before we take off.”

Luke nods absently, “Do you think she’ll come?”

Gathering her courage, “Not until we’ve proven the Jedi Order has really changed.”

Leia’s had more success garnering senate support for abolition in the past months than he and Ahsoka have had in a year of searching for other Jedi.

The galaxy has forgotten the Force. He’s been in the presence of dozens of Jedi since the downfall of the Empire; he can’t join what he knows of the Force with what he feels in them. Like they’ve blocked it out.

With Master Yoda the Force was a living thing – it was a part of him and him of it, even when he died. There is no living Force in any of the trained Jedi he’s met, but it exists in an agent of the Empire.

Their hope is little more than a diminished wick and the only person the Force has lead them to almost certainly will never work with them – let alone trust them.

“There are more survivors out there. We’ll find them.”

“What about new students, people who aren’t trained in the old ways of the Force?”

“You have someone in mind,” Ahsoka is skeptical. New students means more work: starting from the very basics of Force training, the intrinsic things practiced Jedi would already know, as well as teaching them the new doctrines.

“It’s more complicated than that,” his response is as wary as hers, but for different reasons. “I met one of the Emperor’s personal assassins. She’s Force-sensitive.”

Ahsoka stares at him like he’s gone completely mad.

The rain continues to pound the glass.

“When she wasn’t watching me like a kneebhawk, her eyes kept going back to my lightsaber. I think she might have had some training under him.”

“You want to teach an Imperial agent?”

“Maybe.” Then doubtfully, “I don’t know. I don’t even know why I brought it up.”

He backs down and the rain lessens enough for them to take off.

They don’t speak to each other for most of the journey, leaving Luke with his thoughts and Ahsoka with hers.

Mara Jade may have been no less a slave of the Dark Side than Anakin Skywalker.

Their silence is finally broken, “Where did you meet her?”

The pull towards other Force-sensitive individuals is too strong to ignore.

\----------

The tables are turned between Leia and Gerrera. When they first met, he came to her asking for a favor. Now Leia meets him on his ground, and even with Ahsoka as back up, it feels too much like begging.

( _She asked Ahsoka once how she put up with the rancorheaded Separatist. Ahsoka shrugged._ )

“We’ve been over this before; I can’t speak for every independent system, nor do I speak for the Separatist Parliament.”

“No, but those groups are more likely to listen to you than they are to me.”

Gerrera strokes his chin, considering, “Flattering of you to say so, Senator, but you’re overestimating my pull.”

“Your pull maybe, but your significance, definitely not,” Ahsoka puts in. “If we appeal to them together, we’ll appear as a united front from the Order, Republic, and Separatists.” Gerrera is about to object before Ahsoka adds, “Like it or not, people still view Independents as Separatists.”

Separate from both senate and parliament, making the Order’s job more complicated.

But if the Republic must make amends for the damage of Emperor Palpatine, the Separatists and Independents are culpable for Count Dooku. He allowed slavery to grow in this portion of the galaxy. He encouraged them to reach into Republic territory to divert the Jedi’s attention from the war.

She wonders if Gerrera thinks of it like that at all. Or if he stubbornly considers Dooku ‘not his problem.’

“Saw, I saw the way you fought for Onderon’s freedom. Nobody knows better than I do what you lost in that fight. What about others’ freedom? Don’t they deserve it too?”

Ahsoka’s struck a nerve, Gerrera inhales sharply.

Pointedly, Leia asks, “What are your objections, if not moral?”

“Practical. You haven’t spoken to your senate yet and you’re already finding road blocks from the _Separatist_ end. And your smugglers ploy will only get you so far.”

Her frustration levels rise. Leia leans forward in her seat, “Don’t you understand this issue goes beyond the old lines of Republic and Separatist? We’re reaching out to everyone. If you’re not willing to help, someone else will.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help,” he speaks gruffly, as aggravated as she is. “But I want to judge the situation myself.”

That was an unexpected reaction. Leia and Ahsoka look to each other.

“We’ll make sure you get the chance.”

\----------

_He must have done something wrong again. Mom yells in pain. She’s taking the punishment for something she didn’t do._ Guilt twists in his stomach. _He doesn’t cry; he’s too angry to cry. He should be the one in trouble._

_Anakin fights to get to her – to protect her._

_He has to stop this. It’s his fault._

_She screams again_ – Ahsoka disappears from sight.

The crack of the whip ignites hatred in Anakin. He’s long since felt pains more severe and more deadly; none more enraging. The sting lingers long after the searing pain is passed, the reminder slaves are not people – they are property.

Obi-Wan fights beside him, but he’s already tired and isn’t numb to the lash. The slavers pull him down too quickly. Rex struggles to fend off his attackers too. Anakin doesn’t know what’s happened to Ahsoka.

Anakin keeps fighting – he’ll keep fighting until none of them are left.

A whip wraps around his wrist, wrenching his lightsaber out of his grasp; the whip doesn’t release, trying to pull him down. He won’t bend the knee to these people ( _not people – slavers, scum_ ).

He feels Obi-Wan watching, trapped by another crowd of slavers, with awestruck, terrified pity ( _he’s never seen Anakin like this before_ ).

Another whip grabs at his other arm, trying to summon the lightsaber back to him. Then more. Anakin lets out a bloodcurdling, frustrated roar as his last act of defiance, before he is yanked to the ground.

Face in the dirt, Anakin glares up at the queen’s box, hate simmering. Light flashes menacingly behind her. Ahsoka screams again.

He clenches his eyes shut trying to block it all out: the sting of the whips, the anguish of his friends, his failure to protect them.

_Don’t hurt them, it’s my fault. I’m sorry. It’s my fault._

Anakin blacks out.

\----------

Wheels are in motion: Gerrera’s giving in, Karrde’s agreed, and Mon will give them her support.

Her head is heavy from arguing and her shoulders sore from shoving, but she continues to push, her feet digging into the dirt. Once Leia gets past this dip in the road, they will sail over smooth ground.

Sleep should come easily; it doesn’t, mind too full to settle. She finds more ease in meditation than the empty bed.

Out of her window, Kira is still and silent, none of Coruscant’s constant commotion. The city glows dimly in the moonlight, only one of the planet’s four moons visible.

His presence comes out of the night air.

She welcomes him alone, just this once.

Still, her words take a defensive tone, “I would be fighting even if you hadn’t been a slave.”

“I have no doubt. Bail Organa always had good intentions. He taught you well.” The mention of her father stings. She wants to reach _him_ , she wants her mother or Padmé Amidala; the Force gives her only Anakin Skywalker.

He is the one she needs to talk to. Only she’s reluctant to do so – to recall for him what she doesn’t want to, but should never forget ( _he must understand that_ ).

“How did you come to terms with it?”

“I didn’t. I ran as far away as I could, the chain was still around my neck, waiting for someone else to pick it up.”

Leia touches her fingers to her throat, the cold medal collar chafing her skin.

He keeps on, slow and quiet, “Mom bore it better than me. She used to tell me having someone else to live for made it easier to keep going. I didn’t get it then, but she was drawing her strength from me and I was drawing mine from her.” His tone grows pensive, “I used to wonder how she survived all those years in the service of the Hutts alone.”

It shouldn’t surprise her. From all Luke’s told her of slavery on Tatooine it seems as if every slave was owned by the Hutts at one time or another. But this wound is still too fresh, and now it’s not just her.

In a voice too small to be her own, “She wasn’t made to be a pleasure slave, was she?”

“No. She was too young, but –” he stops short.

Comprehension – fear, anger fill the ghost’s hazy eyes.

Lower than a whisper, “Not you too.”

( _There is a rotted and black branch in the place their grandfather should be, shriveling beside the flourishing, green one of their grandmother._ )

Leia shuts her eyes and nods vigorously. She anticipates the rage, the anger, the outburst that doesn’t come.

The room quakes; objects shake and shatter about her. Night trembles, and the galaxy screams like it is being torn in two. She feels it in the air and the Force; it is fractured and wrong, worlds that should never meet close to touching.

( _Life and Death overturn for the power of Anakin Skywalker._ )

“I’ll kill every last one of them!”

Leia’s eyes snap open, refusing to adjust to the angry red light that replaced the blue glow. A tempest rages all around; the specter its epicenter. The ghostly image is no longer translucent, but close to solid.

The broken expression on his scarred face is more child than grown man.

She shields her eyes and runs into the storm encasing his congealing form. Rushing gusts push back against her as Leia struggles towards him.

“It’s alright!” she shouts over the bellowing wind. “I’m alright! I’m not hurt! The Hutts are gone! They can’t hurt anyone else!”

Her fingers find and clasp onto his clenched fist; the gale and tempest ease.

“It’s alright,” she breathes again.

The hand in hers fades and her grasp holds onto nothing. The ghost returns to its natural state, the rattling world disappears into the Force surrounding him.

It is still and silent; the gentle blue glow fills the room once more.

Tears trace the curve of her cheek. Leia wipes away the stain.

\----------

The seats around the conference table are filled with representatives from both sides.

Leia is in her element in their company. Luke takes a step back, out of his depth among the assembled politicians. Ahsoka falls somewhere in between. She doesn’t have Leia’s confidence, but she is more politically-adept than Luke.

A group of Independents files in behind Saw. He nods to her as he takes his place and the meeting begins.

It takes more than a little discussion to enlist the cooperation of all three groups. They push and pull about gains and losses. Very few keep to the issue at hand. Ahsoka is relieved there are months of information gathering ahead of them before the three parties must work together. It’ll give them more time to work out the grievances between them.

And then there’s the matter of fleet organization.

Admiral Ackbar presses the point, “Coordinating with individual armed forces is as impractical as it is impossible. If the Separatists would send a unified army –”

“You speak as if we did not anticipate this difficulty,” Separatist General, Vien’sai’Malloc, interrupts.

“Can you offer a solution?” Luke asks.

“Given the Separatists’ past dealings with the Jedi, General Gerrera has offered to command the combined Separatist and Independent fleets.”

If he notices, Saw doesn’t react to the sharp look Ahsoka shoots at him from the opposite end of the table. He may not have wanted to be king, but his ambition hasn’t diminished. He’s always valued glory and independence above everything else.

“I’m surprised, General. I haven’t known you to be capable of compromise when it comes to Onderon’s independence.”

“Then you don’t know me very well, Senator.”

“In this capacity, I am a Jedi knight, not a senator,” Leia corrects shortly.

Preliminary negotiations completed and military leadership confirmed, they conclude. No need to wear themselves out before the real work begins.

And Ahsoka is ready for it to begin. She’s had enough of Republic or Separatist, Separatist or Independent – it doesn’t matter. Enough is enough. Slavery will end and it starts with the cooperation of all, after decades of fighting.

They have a common enemy. It shouldn’t take more than that.

\----------

It falls to Luke to call a meeting of every smuggling operation willing to hear them out. The responsibility falls heavily on his shoulders when both Leia and Ahsoka are called away ( _more problems between the Republic and Separatists, most likely_ ).

It falls to him, but Han, Chewie, and Lando do the heavy lifting. They lived in this world; they know it better than he does.

Out of the assembled crowd, Luke can identify two by name: Talon Karrde and Mara Jade. The rest he either doesn’t know or has only seen in passing. Enlisting their help probably wouldn’t be any easier even if he did know all of their names.

“I don’t expect any of you to go out of your way to do this. All we’re asking is that if you find something of use to tell us.”

“Why should we help you?” someone shouts from the back.

Politics and morality don’t apply here. Luke appeals to the depth of their pockets. Some shake their heads, disinterested; it’s not enough for them. Those seeking immediate gratification get up to leave.

A voice, not his own, makes them halt at the door, “Anyone who stays will receive personal compensation from me.”

Eyes open wide with shock. Talon Karrde doesn’t make personal investments in operations which he can’t earn a profit from, but that’s exactly what Talon Karrde just did.

Luke tries to get a read on the smuggler, but comes up empty-handed, no explanation why he would take such a risk. His lieutenant wears no expression, no help deciphering her employer’s actions.

A few sit back down; the rest walk out and don’t return.

“I have a proposition for you General Skywalker,” Karrde goes on. “A coalition of smugglers at your disposal, instead of a dozen or so – what does the New Republic call Solo? Ah, yes! Independent shippers. A single coalition under the guidance of one leader, what do you say to that?”

Luke doesn’t get a chance to respond, before a murmur goes through the room and another voice calls out, “And I suppose you’re going to be the one in charge of this alliance.”

“Naturally,” Karrde is glib.

Luke thinks he sees what Karrde is getting out of this, if not credits. It’s not the most altruistic of reasons to aid the cause, but what else should he expect from the smuggler?

“How about it, General? A smuggler’s alliance to match the Rebel Alliance.”

There’s only one response, “The command’s all yours, Captain.”

He’s going to owe Karrde a huge favor for this one.

\----------

Skywalker pulls himself together enough not to draw attention to themselves. He still fingers his blaster ( _the droid carries his lightsaber, just in case_ ).

Mara is relaxed. This isn’t the first slave market she’s seen either. Slavery was an institution of the Empire; she’s used to the filth and the stink. It doesn’t churn her stomach, but she isn’t unfeeling.

The eyes of the slaves are all dull and blank. They’re empty ( _powerless_ ). They have no control of their lives ( _trapped_ ).

( _“Obey or suffer,” whispers the Emperor._ )

Nothing is reflected back at Mara. She stiffens. She knows emptiness; this is hopelessness.

“There aren’t individual guards on holding pens,” Skywalker notes under his breath, “not unless they’ve hired a private mercenary. All the soldiers are guarding the market.”

Mara turns his attention to their weapons, “They may not be guarding the slaves, but they’re certainly watching them: they’ve all got whips as well as blasters. It’s like –”

Skywalker finishes her thought, “They’re expecting an uprising.”

She casts another glance at the people in chains and cages and wonders how anyone could think even one of these miserable creatures has the backbone to lead a revolt. ( _They’re broken._ )

Rejoined with _Wild Karrde_ , Mara and Skywalker report back. Skywalker claims their mission was a success; she doesn’t how he gauges that. Something more should have happened. In her experience, missions end in trades, payoffs, or dead bodies – not information straight and simple.

The debriefing adjourns. Holos shut off, Tano and Organa get their last words in, and the group disbands. Karrde and Skywalker still talk, while Solo and the wookiee wait for him.

“You intend to supervise all of these missions?”

“As many as I can. But I’m needed elsewhere. You’re more likely to see Han than me.”

“Of course. Not even a Jedi can be everywhere at once.” How Karrde manages to make light of everything and everyone is beyond Mara. His prodding is even worse; especially when he turns it on her ( _he knows how much she hates it_ ).

“The two of you work together okay down there?”

Mara rolls her eyes. She’s had enough of Karrde’s jokes for one day. Being forced to work with Skywalker was bad enough…

“Yeah,” Skywalker seems hesitant to say more – to presume more. “Everything was fine.”

“Good. I’m putting her in charge of this job inside my operation. Which means next time you’re along for the ride, you’ll be working with Mara again.”

Nostrils flare, but this isn’t a joke; there’s no more mocking in his tone. Karrde’s really putting her in charge.

“I look forward to it.”

Skywalker stares at her, unsure how much she’s willing to allow friendliness between them. She doesn’t care. If he wants to pretend there is common ground between them, he can.

Offhandedly, Mara replies, “Just try not to get sick next time, farmboy.”

She swears she hears Solo snigger ‘farmboy’ to Chewbacca and imagines Skywalker will get plenty of grief about it from his _friends_ later.

\----------

“I swear, if Nute Gunray opens his mouth about his alternate import routes today, I won’t be able to contain myself. Chancellor Palpatine has let the Trade Federation get completely out of hand.”

Padmé shakes with anger.

Nute Gunray would have used Naboo as an outpost for his slave deals if she hadn’t been able to stop him. Now he wants to use other systems for the same vile business transactions – systems with less sway than hers. He would make those planets slaves to his Federation as he makes living beings slaves to his will.

Colton chuckles at her, “You might as well let her at them, Senator.”

Senator Organa is less humored by Padmé’s fervor, “It may be wiser not to call him out on the subject directly.”

Padmé considers his suggestion of subtly. Abolition is not widely popular within the Republic; systems would rather grow fat and lazy from the subjugation of others than see justice done in the in galaxy. Attacking the Federation outright would not endear them to her cause.

“Make him dig his own grave,” the older senator smiles.

If she gets this right, Padmé may just demonstrate how dangerous the Federation is to liberty in the Republic.

\----------

Leia doesn’t wait for a more convenient time to contact to Luke to tell him she’s found evidence of their mother’s political career.

“I’ve found her! When Ahsoka told us about her involvement with my father’s emancipation movement, it was only a matter of uncovering their work.”

He listens intently as she reads him the policies and doctrines drawn up by this committee. It is a limited guide toward abolition.

He suggests invoking the names of the senators involved; raise them up as champions of their cause.

“Some senators have been coming to me, asking if they can memorialize the Jedi generals of the Clone Wars.”

There’s an anxious edge to his voice, Leia recognizes too well.

‘Jedi generals’ – they mean Anakin Skywalker. ( _A name with such weight and prominence they could invoke it in their anti-slavery cause and have all the support they need._ )

Her gut wrings. She hasn’t told Luke what happened on Onderon yet. It is too personal to share with anyone. ( _She doesn’t need to tell him, but they may speak of it one day._ )

It is pointless to think about, but if she knew what had happened to their grandmother: she would have strangled Jabba for the both of them. She would have never allowed herself to be chained to the Hutt and let him put his slimy hands on her. She would have never worn that disgusting chain. She would have blown the palace with the thermal detonator rather than allow herself to suffer the same fate.

Anakin Skywalker nearly tore the galaxy apart, and the ordeal was already over.

A part of his rage still frightens her too. Leia’s felt the Dark Side of the Force before ( _he used it to torture her once_ ); this was not the same.

This was raw, unnatural power, too terrifying to behold.

Leia turns her attention to the list of committee members, considering them each carefully. In her heart, there are only two names she would call on for strength and wisdom in this matter.

Padmé Amidala brings two sides of Leia together: heritage and upbringing. Her upbringing trying to find some way to right the wrongs done to her ancestors. Their grandmother and father may have lived as slaves, but their mother tried to end it.

That is the legacy Leia will follow. ( _She can claim neither as her own._ )

\----------

The skin on the palm of her hands is cracked and raw, her shoulders sore and aching, but she doesn’t complain when she is taken to bed and sleep is delayed an hour longer ( _she hasn’t been able to protect herself from it for a long time_ ).

Shmi slips out of the room when she is sure her bedfellow is asleep and creeps into bed beside her son.

The muscles in his back twitch and spasm from electrocution; she hugs him closer to her. She pretends she can protect him from these pains. She pretends she provide a sanctuary for him away from the things she had to endure without shelter.

But it’s only for the night.

Day will come again and Shmi will be powerless to shield him. ( _Night never lasts long enough._ )

She kisses the back of Anakin’s head. ( _What more can she do?_ )

\----------

It frustrates Luke, being torn in two. He cannot give his full attention to either task, but each is too important to let go. He is unfocused, feeling more like a hindrance than a helping hand. He can give neither up.

Former Jedi continue to shut the Force out, reject the Order’s new form and refuse to contribute their experience.

He finds children who have no knowledge of the Force, as clueless as he was for nineteen years. Often when he approaches their homes, he finds himself turning back, afraid of harming their lives of joy and contentment. They are too young or not ready to open their minds; he convinces himself to leave them alone.

He’s afraid Ahsoka is right: they won’t be able to give new students the attention they need to open their minds to the Force. Not now, while they’re trying to pry the grip of the slaver’s guild off of the galaxy.

( _Mara Jade is another matter entirely. Neither former Jedi nor new student, Luke doesn’t know what to make of her. They’ve become a decent team, despite how much she dislikes him. She works as adamantly as he, for no discernible reason he can tell, but he feels the Force in her every time they meet._ )

Flying back and forth from Coruscant to wherever he’s meeting the Smuggler’s Alliance or some distant, unfamiliar planet is tiring. These days, Luke spends more time in flight than in port. R2 keeps him company on the long journeys.

Still, it’s easy to drift off in the endless black.

His dream is not wholly a dream. The Force fills it, but it is not a vision.

A woman stands with her back towards him in an open field. Luke doesn’t know if he should call to her.

Gentle wind blows her skirts and the tall grass, which bows in waves. For all its placidness, the breeze disguises his father’s approach. The ghost is whole and solid here; the tranquility lessens the grotesqueness of his appearance.

“Go to her. She would like to meet you.”

“Who is she?”

“Your grandmom.”

Luke crosses the field, his father following a few paces behind. She turns and smiles, beckoning him to come closer. He does; her hand brushes the hair from his eyes, warm and tender.

“You’re all grown up.”

Luke thinks of asking all the questions he and Leia want answers for. More than answers, he yearns for her to tell him the stories of the stars. To hear them in her loving tones with all the hope and meaning they gave to her, but he can’t bring himself to spoil this moment ( _to finally know the woman they’re fighting for_ ).

He waits patiently for her to speak again.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For freeing him. And for remembering me.”

He blinks and another breeze passes over; she is gone.

He turns to his father, “Why haven’t you led me here before?”

His mind goes to his mother: meeting her, speaking to her, reuniting their family at long last.

“It wasn’t known the living could cross over. I fear even this may have its limits.”

The Force is already tugging him back to consciousness.

Before he wakes fully, Luke looks to the sky, “When Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru told me what happened to her all I wanted was to make sure she wasn’t hurt ever again. Now, I want to make sure it never happens to anyone else.”

“A worthy goal. You and your sister will succeed.”

Anakin and Luke Skywalker watch the horizon together until the Force pulls him back to reality.

\----------

If Guild markets are festering stink holes, Kadavo is an empty pit. Looking across the bleak landscape, it’s apparent why the zygerrians chose to break their slaves on this rock.

Mara might have felt its hopelessness if she had come on this mission alone.

Skywalker keeps pace beside her, remarking on the size and structure of the facility ahead of them.

She hates it when they have to land klicks out of the way to hide their ship. It means an extra hour or so walking in stony silence with Skywalker. Still, she’d rather have him on the mission than not. The other smugglers she’s worked with are no match for Skywalker’s… instincts.

“From what Ahsoka told me, the only way to break out of here is by airlift.”

“There’s plenty of wide space, why not just evacuate them?”

He doesn’t have to answer. An actual pit comes into view beneath the Hub. Her eyes go wide imagining the endless drop.

_How many threw themselves in, rather than allowed themselves to be broken_ , she wonders. _How many had more courage than I did when faced with the same choice?_

Her eyes narrow again when she realizes Skywalker is watching her with a mixture of pity and curiosity. She scowls at him. Even if she never learned, Mara knows the Force can be used to read people’s thoughts. She’ll shoot Skywalker in head before she’ll let him read hers.

He turns his attentions back to the facility, “We won’t be able just to walk in the front doors this time.”

Mara nods; she’s never been partial to the direct approach. Crouching in the shadows is where she thrives; it is her realm of expertise.

Examining the ground layout more thoroughly, “The droid’ll have to stay behind. There’s no way we’ll get him over that hole.”

When they reach the edge of the pit, Skywalker reclips his lightsaber to his belt. Mara watches it closely; her fingers twitch.

“What’s the plan?”

Sneak in, find security headquarters, get the information, get out – don’t get caught.

“Follow my lead and don’t try anything heroic,” she spits and leaps across the cavern.

She grasps the narrow ledge of the facility and pulls herself up – Skywalker right behind.

\----------

She sneers at the costume, “You’re kidding me, right?”

“It’s just a disguise. I’m not going to let them make you a slave.”

Ahsoka fears Anakin won’t be able to keep that promise as he leads the Zygerrian Queen from the throne room. ( _They both to have make their performances more convincing._ )

She doesn’t like the way the Miraj Scintel’s prime minister is eyeing her like a prized brezak.

Her nerves are taught, as Atai Molec paces behind her, drawing closer. If he reaches a hand out to touch her like the queen did, Ahsoka doesn’t know if she’ll be able to stop herself from pushing him away too.

She feels the twi’lek’s intentions in the Force, before she acts.

Both their attention ( _and the prime minister’s blaster_ ) is diverted as the twi’lek makes an attempt on the queen’s life.

Anakin deflects it easily and the slave falls to the ground, but that’s where his act fails. He cannot match the queen’s menacing and degrading tones. He cannot control the break in his voice when the twi’lek throws herself over the balcony.

The queen might miss it, but Ahsoka sees the trauma behind Anakin’s otherwise impassive façade when he offers her to the queen as a gift.

In her ear, the prime minister snarls, “You may be the queen’s servant, but your body will belong to me.”

Ahsoka grimaces as Molec fingers the beads dangling from her headpiece.

It makes her skin crawl to let him get so close to her and to watch Anakin try to act like the very thing he despises. For her part, it doesn’t feel so much like they’re acting anymore.

\----------

“Master Tano, we’re being hailed. It’s Atai Molec.”

“Put him through.”

The zygerrian appears on the holo, older and more grey than Ahsoka’s memory. Once squared shoulders have slumped and stomach’s been let go in complacency. She wasn’t intimidated by him then, she certainly isn’t now.

He snarls, “Admiral Ackbar, I might have known you were behind this illegal blockade. You will remove it from Zygerrian airspace.”  
The admiral rests his webbed hands on the console, leaning forward, “I cannot comply.”  
“And why not?”

“Because he’s not in command,” Ahsoka draws the slaver’s attention to her. “I am. And your slave ships have violated the terms of the Neutral Space Act.”

Molec’s growl deepens, growing more unpleasant, “What is this? You’re mocking me, Ackbar. Who is this upstart?”

“I’m not surprised you don’t remember. Of course, what’s another slave to you?” ( _One among dozens, probably more._ ) “I’m Jedi Master Ahsoka Tano and this blockade will stand in place until the Slaver’s Guild surrenders unconditionally.”

His malicious laugh unsettles her. Ahsoka fights off the shudder which follows.

“You’ve jogged my memory, Jedi. How could I forget the scug who helped me secure my place on the Zygerrian Empire’s throne?” He tests her, pulling at the poorly sewn stitches and seams, trying to find the thread which unravels all the rest.

“And I’ll be the one to take it away. You can’t win, Molec.”

“We shall see what happens to your resolve when slaves start to starve. You Jedi have always had weak wills where the pitiful are concerned.”

Their purpose here is no secret, Ahsoka’s not surprised he figured it. She crosses her fingers and hopes he can’t guess the second part of their plan.

He continues with a bite in his voice, “You’ll break yourselves. And when you do, you’ll be processed and brought to my bed, where I’ll fuck you like the slave you are.”

Command waits in steely silence for her response. Threats and lashing out were expected, but even Saw expected Zygerria’s king to act with some civility and less crudeness.

“I’d like to see you try,” Ahsoka quips back, as if they were bantering good-naturedly. “I look forward to your surrender.”

She cuts off their frequency before Molec can regain his composure.

Leia turns to her concerned, eyes wide.

“Last time her tried to touch me, I nearly threw him off a roof. Our plan is going to work and the closest he’s going to get to me is across a field of surrender.”

“So now we wait?”

“Now we wait,” Ahsoka agrees.

Three days later, the Slavers Guild makes its first attempt to run the blockade; the fighters are launched to chase back a series of aurora-class freighters. They are forced to retreat within minutes of breaking atmo.

Command celebrates their first victory, but Molec is not beaten yet.

\----------

The fumes from the furnace fill the nose with noxious air. Obi-Wan can barely breathe, let alone shovel more coal into the machinery’s fire.

But he must.

He paused for a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow. A guard put his electrostaff to the collar of another slave. The togrutan nearly collapses under the strain, her expression deadening, her spirit giving up and giving in. Obi-Wan doesn’t dare stop again.

Rex is infuriated beside him, “How much longer do we put up with this, sir?”

“As long as we have to.”

He must trust Anakin will come up with a plan. ( _His brother’s rage still echoes in Obi-Wan’s ears._ )

He hears every conversation they’ve ever had about Anakin’s past in his head, all of them ending in his single instruction: put it behind you. Cold and dismissive as it was, it is necessary to the Jedi code – to not let personal feelings cloud your judgment. He sees now, it is impossible for Anakin to ever forget it.

Obi-Wan doubts he ever will.

\----------

The Falcon is restored to her original line of work, although her purpose is a good deal nobler. She’s the first smuggling ship to make a drop on Zygerria after Karrde insinuates she’s not worth her metal.

Han walks about in a daze when he returns from the planet’s surface.

Operations in the air are running smoothly, but, on the ground, things couldn’t be much worse. The slavers are fighting back, intercepting the relief effort. Hundreds of slaves are crammed together in cages to prevent them receiving the supplies.

They need a glimmer of hope – a way to take control of their own fates for a change.

Han doesn’t have to be a Jedi in order to tell these people aren’t ready to stand up for themselves.

Han trusts Leia, Luke, and Ahsoka know what they’re doing better than he did when he rescued Chewie from trandoshan slavers all those years ago. Their plan is solid, not spontaneous and sure as hell a lot less crazy.

But there isn’t anything to make them fight.

“They need weapons and ammunition, not just food.”

There’s a gleam in Gerrera’s eye, “You’re talking about inciting a slave revolt.”

Ahsoka’s shakes her head, “That’s out of the question.”

“For the militaries, but not for the smugglers.” Luke uncrosses his arms and joins them at the command center, “Han’s right. We thought about how to keep them alive, but not about how to help them help themselves.”

Breaking Chewie out of his binders was only half the battle. The other half was letting Chewie fight the trandoshans himself – prove he was free of them.

Maybe they don’t need to tear the arms off of every slaver, but the slaves need to remember they only belong to themselves.

Ahsoka’s not convinced. ( _Not yet._ )

The usual commotion of the hangar, the whizz and buzz of mechanics, puts it out of Han’s mind. He readies the Falcon for her next supply drop.

“Solo!”

Startled, Han smacks his head on the hull, “General Gerrera.”

Han’s still rubbing the brand new bump, so the general talks, “I know a little something about getting help to throw off your oppressors: you’ve got to want it, but a little help goes a long way. Get these to the right people.”

Behind him several large crates sit in wait – blasters, disruptors, whatever else Gerrera seems to have been able to scrounge up.

The Falcon makes her first ammunitions delivery within hours. In the hills outside the city, a small group of escaped slaves accepts the gift. There’s a bright, new spark in each of their eyes.

\----------

With her experience from the Alliance Leia considers her greatest asset to the operation is in planning the relief effort. She spreads out holocharts and datapads across a briefing table to plot out drop points.

Before she leaves, Leia makes sure there are plenty of alternate coordinates just in case they have to evacuate their current location.

Her short stint on Coruscant consists mostly of meetings. Meetings about Alderaan, meetings on strengthening Republic relations with the Separatists _and_ the Independents ( _perhaps Gerrera is wearing her down_ ), and meetings on the status of the abolitionist blockade.

There isn’t time to breath, let alone reflect on how drained she is. Though her body screams in exhaustion, Luke trains her in the spare hours between his arrival and departure.

They hardly seem to sit still anymore ( _duty is a priority over meditation_ ).

During their short sparring match, he gives her the latest news from the blockade, “Slave riots have begun all over the surface. Some are starting on other planets too, though not on the same scale.”

Truthfully, Leia’s proud Han’s plan worked, but it’s irritating they didn’t think of it before.

Luke holds his lightsaber in hand after the match is over, weighing options in his mind, “You’re headed back to Zygerria, right?”

“As soon as Ahsoka arrives.”

They are precariously balanced. After the first week of the blockade, they began alternating responsibilities. It wouldn’t be wise to let it appear as though the Order abandoned their operation. It’s a struggle, but one of them tries to be there at all times ( _sometimes it’s not possible_ ).

Luke weighs the hilt one last time then presses it into Leia’s open palm.

“Give this to Mara when she gets here.” He silences her protests before she even starts, “I won’t need it, paying a visit to an old member of the Order.”

“You’re far too trusting.”

Whether Leia means of Jade or of the ex-Jedi he’s going to meet, she doesn’t say.

She starts on a series of independent exercises after he leaves. She tries to maintain deep, even breaths, but she is anxious to see what rebel-rousing Han has stirred. She is anxious to be in the command center again.

Leia has complete faith in Ackbar, Gerrera, and Karrde’s abilities, but this is her command, regardless of whether it is Republic or Order run and of how little resemblance it bears to Bail Organa ( _and Padmé Amidala’s_ ) original movement.

Her solitude reminds her not just physically drained she is, but emotionally too.

Always this constant battle – Organa and Skywalker ( _it’s not hostile, just a struggle to know herself_ ). Most days, Leia must reach for either one. She must quiet the other one, if she wants to hear her own thoughts.

There’s something about being on the bridge of their flagship which frees her mind. Her two halves work together, accomplishing what they couldn’t manage separately.

Leia thanks them for giving this to her.

\----------

Mara’s frequent visits to Coruscant are starting to irritate Karrde ( _they interrupt business_ ).

Taking _Jade’s Fire_ is always an option, but this is her way of getting back at him for forcing her to work with Skywalker in the first place. Plus she’s committed her ship to the relief effort ( _she can’t be taking it away every few weeks_ ).

She checks over her ship closely before boarding. It’s good to have the controls in her hands again.

Aves takes the co-pilot’s seat, “Satisfied I didn’t crash her while you were off playing Jedi?”

Mara doesn’t much care for Karrde’s communication officer and his smug attitude. She could snap at him, he probably expects her to; she’d rather prove him wrong.

It may be slow going, but Mara is learning. Something tells her it will come more easily to her now ( _Skywalker’s watching her back_ ).

Mara ignores him, “Let’s just get these supplies to the slaves.”

They land on the outskirts of an abandoned city somewhere in the eastern provinces.

The streets are lined with empty cages. They’re eerier this way, waiting open armed to be filled again. Ghosts hang about them.

Faint images leer at Mara as she goes by; Aves doesn’t seem to even notice them. They plead with her – beg her to let them go.

It unsettles Mara she can sense their presence, like they’re actually there.

She senses another presence at the other end of the street. Already spooked by the surroundings, Mara’s not interested in surprises. She aims her blaster directly at the newcomer’s chest.

“Whoa!” Skywalker throws his hands up, “It’s alright! It’s me!”

“Skywalker, what are you doing here?”

“I’m the contact you’re meeting. The rebels are out in the hills. I’m supposed to take you to them.”

Aves breathes a sigh of relief and goes to retrieve the crates from the ship, but Mara doesn’t drop her guard. She looks over her shoulder at the cages.

“Do you see them?” Skywalker watches the ghosts too.

“Who are they?”

“Potential Jedi. The zygerrians used to enslave Force-sensitive, but that was in ancient times, back when this city was Zygerria’s capital.”

“How come Aves can’t see them?”

“The ghosts are made up of pure Force-energy; the greater your connection to the Force, the more visible they become.”

They are only dim shades to Mara, but that doesn’t make them any less real. Skywalker’s eyes glaze over, brimming with memories that are not his own; he must see them more clearly than she does.

He abruptly turns away from the cages and looks at her. Mara averts her gaze. ( _What the hell was she doing staring at his eyes?_ )

“Come on. We should help Aves with the crates.”

\----------

“They’re starting to hole up in the capital, locking up as many of the slaves with them as they can. I don’t know how long their provisions will hold out in there,” Ahsoka tells Leia over the communicator.

“Is there any way we can draw them out?”

Ahsoka takes another look through the electrobinoculars. The city’s high walls are unscalable and shield generator impenetrable.

“If there is I don’t see one.”

They have to be patient if they want to see results. Sometimes Ahsoka feels the same way about training Mara. She wishes the process would go faster, but there’s no point in rushing it. They’ll come along in their own time.

The Dark Side hangs this part of the galaxy, though it is slowly receding, just as Mara is freeing herself from its shadow.

Last time Ahsoka saw her student, she was making great strides moving and summoning objects with the Force. It’s good, steady progress for being constantly interrupted.

She knows Mara wants ( _hungers for_ ) a lightsaber of her own, but there isn’t time. Ahsoka was barely able to contain herself when she was ready to build her first lightsaber; she can’t imagine what a wait it’s been for Mara, first the Emperor dangling it in front of her and now abolition taking priority.

Her elbows dig into the frozen dirt as she stakes out the city.

It’s waiting for the frosts to thaw and the air to warm; a natural process. They can’t make the things they want happen any faster.

Patience is endurance. And if there’s anything Ahsoka’s good at: it’s enduring.

She suspects Mara’s pretty good at it too.

“Molec’s not going anywhere, Leia. We can wait him out.”

\----------

Red alert echoes throughout the ship.

“This is Gold Leader. We have two dreadnaughts and three fighter squadrons incoming.”

“I want more fighters in the air!” Ahsoka barks out orders, “Wedge, get Rogue out there now! Back them up! Move the battleships into position! Fire the warning shots, but don’t expect them to turn back!”

Before anyone can react Gold Leader’s voice comes through the speaker again. It is breathless, but with no less urgency, “Holy shit. It’s their entire godsdamn armada.”

“All fighters in the air now!” Ahsoka shouts. “Forget the warning shots! We’ll need every missile we’ve got.”

All he needs is one look from Ahsoka and they understand: Molec is making a break for it.

Then Luke scrambles to the hangar deck with the rest of Rogue squadron; boarding their X-wings and launching into space without standard protocol.

The dogfights of the past months can’t compare to a full scale battle. And though it’s been over three years since Luke’s been in one, the adrenalin finds him easily enough; it pumps blood in his ears and heightens his Force abilities.

Rogue flies formation at the oncoming enemy fighters.

A barrage of artillery is fired overhead at the opposing starships. Lights flash blindingly on impact, crippling their defenses.

More are sent back in the opposite direction, but they aren’t Luke’s concern.

“This is Rogue Leader. Prepare to fire on my mark.”

Weapons engaged Luke focuses on the flight pattern of the rival squadron. They’re too tightly grouped for maneuverability. It’s a formation meant for brute strength, not the intricate battle tactics Rogue is known for; they’re intent on running the blockade.

Wedge gives the command, “Fire!”

The fighters explode into pieces, but not before returning fire. Some missiles collide in the air, most of Rogue’s hit their targets, and the Zygerrian’s are only just dodged.

Luke’s X-wing barrel rolls out of formation, narrowly avoiding the one headed for him.

Rogue doesn’t bother regrouping, the other squadrons are in need of assistance; they fly off in different directions, chasing the tails of the remaining enemy fighters.

After taking out another two, a third starts to follow Luke as he flies through the larger ships, still exchanging heavy fire.

Luke tests his pursuer’s nerve; the nose of his X-wing dives down to the nearest starship, pulling up at the last second.

The bogie changes course just in time.

Desperately, “I can’t shake him!”

“Hang on, Luke. I’m on my way.”

But Wedge is too far out.

There’s a flash behind him and bogie disappears from the scanners.

Han’s voice whoops, “Looks like you started the party without us, Rogue Two!”

The _Millennium Falcon_ and _Wild Karrde_ , not far behind, lead the Smuggler’s Alliance into the fray. Zygerrian cruisers and transports take a beating from the combined Republic and Separatist forces. All fighter squadrons have broken formation, weaving through the battle and firing at will.

From the surface, the sky must look red and orange with fire.

Unable to break the blockade and cut off from the surface, the Zygerrians are trapped.

The barrage from the starships ceases just before the enemy fighters retreat to their landing bays.

A call goes throughout the fleet. Ahsoka sounds hoarse, but their success is not diminished by it, “We’ve done it. They’ve surrendered.”

The comm grill explodes with shouts and cheers. A few fighters flip triumphantly in the air.

Luke leans back in his seat and releases his grip on the Force. It floods back over him, washing away the strain.

Ahsoka’s the first one to find him in the throng of celebrating pilots, smugglers, and deckhands when he makes it back to the flagship ( _he’s one among dozens this time_ ). She pulls him into a tight and weary hug.

Yes, it was for the good of the galaxy, but it was for Anakin Skywalker and every slave who came before ( _they can all rest in peace now_ ).

Han is jumping on his back and Leia is breaking into their hug in a manner of minutes, reminding them of victory’s thrill.

Ahsoka is suddenly lifted above all of their heads and the crowd starts chanting her name ( _their triumphant leader_ ). Luke, Leia, and Han’s voices join in the victory song.

\----------

Molec thrums his fingers on the table.

Ahsoka stares back, arms crossed ( _all her time training Mara must be influencing her behavior_ ).

“I suppose you want to humiliate me further by forcing me to make a formal declaration of emancipation,” he sneers.

“Tempting, but I doubt the freed people of the Zygerrian Empire and Slavers Guild want their freedom given to them by the likes of you.”

They resume their hostile silence. His commanding officers eye hers, stubborn even in defeat.

“You are in no position to negotiate with us, accept the terms of surrender and we can all be on our way,” Leia is firm with the slaver.

The zygerrian growls dangerously, but doesn’t object.

He picks up the stylus and signs the datapad.

“I’ll see you in hell, little scug,” he spits at Ahsoka.

“It’ll be too soon.”

Molec and his associates are escorted to their transport.

The ranking members of the Guild are to be placed under house arrest on Raxus, the Separatists taking full responsibility for their long dead leader’s practices. The slave markets on Zygerria will be dismantled and cities rebuilt to prosper by other means.

Newly-liberated people are shuttled to home worlds or completely different worlds, if that’s what they decide.

Reuniting families is another priority. The auction books are useful, if repulsive, tools to find to whom their loved ones were sold.

The task is bigger than anticipated, but the effort is worth it.

Ahsoka sees the first traces of dawn for the New Jedi Order; an Order which protects peace and unites the galaxy.

\----------

The deep black of space is emptiness – vast and void. It swallows the systems and the stars whole until they are nothing at all. A cold and dismal place, if nothing else.

But it is something else, Leia believes. In the vastness there is openness; there is freedom. Out among the stars people can discover who they are – they can be free of their past, free to choose their future. ( _Luke tells her he could never feel trapped looking out at the stars._ )

The black isn’t emptiness. It’s promise.

It’s a promise to the freed peoples of galaxy, one of boundless opportunity and endless starlight.

She imagines her family – _all_ her family – beneath the open sky. It is completely open to them; not just the black, but the deep blue hues and the infinite possibilities.

That is the freedom of the sky and now everyone can chase it.

Luke takes her hand.

“You’ve been here before.”

“Only briefly. Come on. I don’t know how long we have.”

He leads her across a field to the foot of a mountain; sea water breaks on cliffs, bright stars hang overhead. Tears well up behind her eyes when she sees who’s standing there.

Father and mother take her into their arms; their smiles filled with pride. Luke’s embraced by a man and woman she recognizes not by sight, but by their presence. Their aunt and uncle hold her as her parents accept Luke into their hearts.

Through silently spilling tears Leia catches sight of a woman she hasn’t seen in years. She has none of the same sadness about her now.

Luke and Leia fall into their mother’s arms. Leia doesn’t know how she’ll ever let go. ( _Their mother takes an extra long look at each of their faces. Her eyes bore especially deep into Luke’s._ )

Their father accompanies another woman Leia only knows in her heart.

Shmi Skywalker is free.

The galaxy is free, as they will be forever more.

**Author's Note:**

> See author bio for discussion on this 'verse.


End file.
